


Fools

by stepOnMeZenos



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19471861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepOnMeZenos/pseuds/stepOnMeZenos
Summary: Father and son reunite, with dire consequences.(Don't read this if you haven't finished 5.0 and care about spoilers.)





	Fools

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I finished 5.0 yesterday and I will never stop screaming again

Zenos had occasionally wondered what it would feel like to turn against his own flesh and blood. He never had, not truly; he had not obeyed orders in spirit at times, yes, he had acted against his father's interests, but never had he openly rebelled against his authority. There had never been a reason to, until now. 

In sooth, he felt nothing as he buried his blade in his father's intestines, felt nothing as he cried out in pain, felt nothing as blood stained his clothes around the injury. Not even the satisfaction he had once imagined he would experience, long years ago. Instead, he found himself… indifferent, tinged with a smidgen of disappointment, though tempered by the immense pleasure of hearing his own heartbeat once more. 

_This_ was the man who had created him? This… pitiful creature, aimlessly groping at the ground as he convulsed, after falling to his blade oh so easily? Even Elidibus, that craven thief, had put up more of a resistance. Even his friend's pitiful attendants had struggled more than this! Of course there was no satisfaction to be found here. His father was no more than a pesky obstacle. Hardly even worth dirtying his blade for. 

“Have you any last words for me, Father?“ he said. Why he did, he was not sure either. Perhaps part of him did want some form of closure, silly though it might seem. Or perhaps he had only wanted to hear his own voice upon speaking again, the same way he wished to exert his body— _his_ body—to its limits, simply to exult in the joys of familiar limbs moving in familiar ways.

He had missed his body, truly he had. At least the Ascian had taken good care of it in his absence.

“Zenos...“ Oh, how broken his voice, how startled his face. His father had not expected this turn of events. Foolish. Perhaps he had not anticipated Zenos returning—how could he, when Zenos himself had not known?—but surely he had to have realised that his son did not care enough to spare his life? 

“No? Very well. I shall end this farce, then.“ Zenos gripped the sword handle, but ere he could wrench the blade's tip free, the doors to the throne room burst open. In came an elezen he did not recognise, and… oh, _that_ was a face he had not seen in a long time. It would have been nostalgic, had he ever cared for the man. 

“Gaius! You've missed your part in this, I'm afraid.“ 

Of course, van Baelsar did not do the smart thing and stand by. Instead, he drew his gunblade and prepared to charge. Such foolishness. Though the question of what van Baelsar had been up to during his absence _was_ somewhat intriguing, seeing how he had apparently known that his body had been possessed…

He listened to their irrelevant prattling with half an ear. Mayhap he should simply pull his sword free and end it, but on the other hand, there was the possibility that they knew more about his friend's whereabouts, or about the power he sought to claim… 

When his father began lecturing him on the burdens of the imperial throne, however, it became abundantly clear that he would learn naught of use here. 'Foolish, greedy son?' What a silly assessment.

“Hmph. 'Tis you, Father, who have struggled with this burden. Simply holding the Empire together has occupied your limited faculties. But you may take comfort in knowing that I have no intention of pursuing your tedious agenda, nor am I interested in ruling over the Empire's lands.“

At this, several emotions flickered across his father's face. Rage—at being insulted, perhaps, though it was well deserved. Surprise—and why this, when it had ever been abundantly clear that Zenos held no interest in ruling? And then, something he couldn't identify. But he hardly cared enough to inquire, or even spent another thought on the matter. 

“I came only to remove that which would ruin my sport.“ His father's foolish interference and the thief who had made off with his body alike. The thief had escaped… his father would not. “I will not have my prey stolen by your petty wars and cowardly weapons.“

This time, it was obvious what his father felt. Outrage, burning embers of outrage. With a shaking hand, he grabbed onto the sword still stuck in his body. Zenos could see the edge cutting into his hand, but he nonetheless managed to wrench it free and break the tip off. A surprising amount of strength, it appeared he had _some_ fight left in him after all…

“You would kill me just for that?“ 

_Just_ for that… what better cause could there be to kill one such as him? But he would not understand, and Zenos did not have the time to spare to make him, not when the man lying before him had but seconds left to live anyroad. 

“I need no other reason. Any and all who interfere with my hunt...“ The Resonant surged without his meaning to. Sometimes this happened in response to his emotions. Yes, perhaps he did feel a little angry at his father for conspiring to kill his friend in such a despicable manner. Not that it would have succeeded, but the mere attempt was reprehensible. 

“...will not do so twice!“

He struck. A broken sword could cut as well as one that was whole, in this situation. His father breathed his last, a dying gasp. Blood spattered on Zenos' face.

Ah, such a fond reminder of that jubilant time he had faced his friend and, in defeat, slit his own throat. The blood staining his skin scarlet had felt just as warm then, even as his body had grown cold. To lie in a bed of flowers, bleeding out as his friend watched—a marvel. He hoped to repeat the scene, or perhaps reverse it, soon. Mayhap he should wound himself a little, keep the memory fresh… 

Ah, but of course, the pesky interlopers were still here. He turned around and assessed them—the elezen seeming to be the epitome of composure, while Gaius had presently lost his. Ah. He _had_ respected his father, had he not? Well, no matter. They would be dealt with swiftly.

And then perhaps afterwards, he could spare the time to indulge a little.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated!


End file.
